


Michael's Experiment

by Sinistretoile



Series: Hallowe'en [49]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: 31 Days Of Halloween, Apocalypseverse Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Cross-Posted on Tumblr, Dark, Halloween, Implied Relationships, Implied Sexual Content, Michael Possessing Dean Winchester, Minor Violence
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-10-11
Updated: 2019-10-11
Packaged: 2020-12-09 00:30:27
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,044
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20985830
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Sinistretoile/pseuds/Sinistretoile
Summary: Michael decides to add an old friend of Dean's to the experiment.





	Michael's Experiment

**Author's Note:**

> Prompt: "Why are you screaming? I haven't even cut on you yet?"

Dean Winchester always got the same room when he stayed at this hotel. After midnight, if he wanted company, he threw a red bandana over the lamp next to the bed. Within ten minutes, she would knock.  
The door opened to Dean’s sly smile. Oh, how she missed it. Her arms slipped around his shoulders and pulled him into a kiss. He stiffened but her tongue swept into his mouth and she tasted of honey and sunshine and everything good and pure. He moaned into her mouth and she smiled. His large hands rested on her hips.  
She broke the kiss, leaning back to see his face. “About time you came back my way, Mr. Winchester.”  
“Been a long time, yeah?”  
“Too long.” She closed the door and turned to him. His white button down was rolled to the elbows and she bit her bottom lip. “You’re dressed awfully nice. You wanna look good for me, tiger?”  
“You know it.” She put her hands on his chest and pushed him back to the bed. He allowed her. But when she tried to push him back to fall, he grabbed her wrists and yanked her against his body. She squeaked. “Ah, ah, sugar, you first.” He grabbed her thighs, just under her ass and tossed her on the bed.  
“Dean-“ Her confusion subsided when he yanked the shorts down her legs. His fingers twisted in the fabric of her panties. She gasped when he jerked them off to the sound of ripping fabric. Then his mouth was on her and she forgot what she’d been thinking, and that feeling nudging at the back of her mind that something was wrong with Dean.

She smelled cordite and iron, earth and petrichor. Her eyes fluttered open just as a drop of rain fell into her eyeball. She blinked rapidly and snapped her head to the side. Pain overwhelmed her as did the urge to vomit. She fought that urge but it was too strong. She rolled over, onto her hands and knees and vomited. Her head split open from the pain and when she was able to, she fell back away from her own sick.  
She squeezed her eyes shut, hugging herself. She could feel grit underneath her but for the life of her, she had no idea where she was. The last thing she remembered was getting dressed in Dean’s hotel room. He’d felt different. He’d touched her differently. She sat up slowly. Her brain felt like a tangerine, loose in its skin. Concussion.  
“Ah, you’re awake.”  
Her initial reaction had been to whip around but she stopped herself. She knew she would have vomited again. She forced herself to turn slowly to his voice, taking in the large brick and stone room they were in with its high windows that let in the moonlight.  
“Dean?”  
“No, little one. I thought you’d figured that out by now.” His eyes glowed the most beautiful white she’d ever seen. Then she remembered. They finished and she was getting dressed to go grab food for the both of them. Then she’d seen his eyes glow. She’d panicked and tried to run. Dean had told her once that if his eyes change, he’s not himself and not to trust him. He’d bounced her head off the concert wall of the hotel like it was nothing. Then he’d bashed it a couple more times for good measure.  
“No…you’re not Dean.” She used the column that she’d been laying by to stand up. Her body ached like she’d been thrown against the column and discarded onto the floor. “What have you done with him?”  
Whoever was in Dean’s body clicked his tongue several times. “I haven’t done anything to him.” He pointed the curved blade at her. “There’s enough left of him to have fooled you.”  
She leaned against the column. “Who…who-“  
“Who am I?” He inspected the blade and found a streak of blood on the glinting metal. He cleaned the blade with his gloved fingers before he tucked it and another in his other hand in pockets of the black apron that he wore. He hefted the body he’d been working on out of the chair then tossed it unceremoniously onto the pile. “I am Michael, little one.”  
“Michael? As in the archangel?”  
“Yes.” He rolled his neck and clenched his jaw. “Now. In the chair.” She shook her head and refused to move. He clicked his tongue in annoyance. The others he had waiting were thankful of this reprieve. His dress shoes scuffed over the dusty, gritty floor as he stalked to her. “Don’t make me angry.” His eyes glowed. He grabbed her arm and hustled in her into the chair.  
“Help! Someone, help!”  
Michael shook his head, pulling the curved blades from their pockets. She screamed and kicked out at him. He grabbed her ankle and held the other blade at her throat. She hadn’t even seen him move. “Why are you screaming? I haven’t even cut on you yet?”  
“P-please, don’t do this. I won’t-I won’t tell anyone.” She shook her head.  
Michael rolled his eyes. He gripped her throat and shushed her, gliding the blade along her bottom lip. “You’re my little experiment.” Her brow pinched in confusion. “See, Dean never shuts up.” He sighed. “So I decided to attempt to feel something other than disgust and rage. You, little one, presented the perfect opportunity to do so.”  
Michael tilted his head, running the flat of the blade back along her bottom lip. “I felt pleasure. Delicious, carnal pleasure. I could feel the echoes of Dean’s affection for you. Like wearing someone else’s jacket. Or in this case, skin.” He bopped his head once. “You were quite eager to please. And even better at it than you were eager.”  
“I can do it again.”  
Michael shushed her and laid the blade against her lips. “Don’t. Don’t beg. Don’t plead. Don’t debase or whore yourself. Nothing you can say or do with your body will change the outcome of this.” He leveled her with a dark stare. “Now, I wonder if I will feel pain, sadness, guilt or regret.” He smiled, tipping her chin up with the edge of the blade. “You may scream now.”


End file.
